


Continuing Unrelated Adventures of Tom and Chris

by zgory



Category: Actor RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Multi, one pwp, unrelated one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zgory/pseuds/zgory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More fills and one-shots revolving around Chris and Tom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Go for the Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Tom have been cast in a high profile drama as lovers. Their existing friendship allows them to play the parts amazingly, but crew members and tabloids have their own suspicions about their electric chemistry and off-screen shenanigans.

“I am here,” declares Tom as he firmly cradles Chris’ face between his hands. “And nothing else you can say will ever dissuade me from leaving you again. I’m not falling for that anymore.”

There is sheen to Chris’ eyes as he gazes back at Tom. “I’m sorry, Nathan,” he murmurs softly as his large hands stroke the other man’s slender wrists.

Tom’s thumbs extend to brush against the younger man’s cheeks, and he bestows him with a soft smile. “Whatever for?”

They continue to stare into each other’s eyes for a few brief moments before Chris surges forward to capture Tom’s lips with his own. The latter’s slim fingers transfer from Chris’ face to wind about his golden tresses. He gently pulls, and it produces a small moan from Chris’ mouth. The broader man’s arms wrap around the Brit’s waist and tighten so as to pull Tom flush against his body. Their hips begin to grind against each other in harmony with Tom moving in earnest.

They scramble over to Tom’s bed and fumble on to it gracelessly as one mass of limbs when their legs hit the end of it. Chris’ hands snake under Tom’s shirt, and they momentarily break apart so the piece of clothing can be whipped over his curly head and thrown into a corner.

“A little eager there, Jon?” asks Tom huskily with a small laugh at the end of the question.

Chris smirks in return before whipping off his own shirt and throwing it off to the side. He dives in and begins to hungrily suckle on Tom’s Adam’s Apple. The Brit’s breath hitches as his back arches up and off the mattress. One of his hands bunches into the thin sheets while the other perches in Chris’ blond hair just to tangle his long fingers in the soft strands.

Chris’ mouth travels up his neck to his jaw before finally finding Tom’s mouth again, and they share sloppy open mouth kisses once again.

“CUT!” yells a voice from off to the side.

The two actors break apart to look over at their director. From behind her monitor, she gives a thumbs up while pulling her headphones from her ears. “Excellent work. You nailed it. Now you’ve got to head back to makeup for all of the post-coital shots.”

Tom’s flurry to sit up forces Chris to roll off to his side. “What about the actual coitus?”

“A little eager there, Tom?” jokes Chris as he folds his hands beneath his head.

Tom swats at his washboard abs without turning to him. “Not if it’s slated in the schedule.”

“It’s been moved to tomorrow since it’s a lengthy shoot. Real ambitious stuff I’m aiming for as it’s the only one. Now get going while we restage.”

Tom and Chris nod dutifully right before they are swarmed by a multitude of assistants who gather up the discarded clothing, give the actors robes to put on, and usher them to makeup.

“Oh, Chris,” calls the director before the Australian is out of earshot. “Interesting improve choice with the neck thing. Very organic.”

Chris nods in face of the compliment. “Just got caught up in the moment is all.”

She nods enthusiastically at this. “Yeah, yeah. It was good. Now I'm anticipating having to go in front of the MPAA over our assured ‘R’ rating," she says jokingly but with an undertone of seriousness. She continues nodding so her hair bounces in rhythm with her bobs. "Bunch of prudes. The lot of ‘em.”

Chris tips his head in understanding. “Gotcha.”

* * *

“We’ve got another barbecue this weekend if you’re up for it,” says Chris as they sit in their chairs and are transformed however minimally for their next scene.

“I swear you’re just trying to fatten me up with your secret Australian recipes,” quips Tom.

As both actors’ eyes are closed, they miss the look the two makeup artists exchange with each other. The one attending to Tom gives the other one a pointed look with a raised eyebrow while the attending to Chris suppresses his groan.

“It’s not my fault that you scarf down piping hot meat like a starving man.”

“Stop inviting your brother then. He is an absolute master behind that grill.”

“What about me? I like to think I know my way around a pair of ribs.”

Tom just hums in his seat while the two makeup artists exchange another pair of looks.

“You ass,” replies Chris fondly.

“Okay, all done Mr. Hiddleston,” chirps the female artist.

“As are you Mr. Hemsworth,” chimes in the other one.

The two actors promptly rise from their chairs, check themselves in their respective mirrors, thank the makeup people, and walk out the trailer companionably chatting some more about the upcoming barbecue.

The woman holds her hand out to her co-worker. “Pay up.”

“Oh, come on! Other people are going to be there.”

“You never specified that in the bet,” clarifies the female artist as she waits expectantly for her due. “You said, and I quote, ‘There is no possible way they could have another excuse to get together.’ So come on. Don’t be a scrooge.”

The man mutters as he reaches for the top shelf for his pouch. He unzips it and promptly slaps five bucks into his co-workers waggling fingers. She stretches out the legal tender and mockingly holds it up to the light to make sure it is real before pocketing it.

“Makes you wonder if that’s what it was like on Brokeback,” muses the male makeup artist.

His co-worker makes a dismissive hand gesture. “Nah. I mean, some co-stars pal up real nice but those two?” She jerks her thumb at the door. “Like a house on fire both on and off set. It’s no wonder the camera doesn’t burst into flame during their scenes together. “

He hums quietly to himself before another idea hits him. “Hey! Ten bucks says they keep fitting innuendos into their conversations and still remain oblivious to them.”

* * *

“So what’s their deal?” whispers one caterer to her co-worker as they re-package the rest of the desserts into their van.

The other woman looks back towards the hunky Australian who saunters towards the other actor. The other actor who has been hovering around their dessert cart for the past week but not plucked anything though his eyes say differently. She can’t hear their conversation from where she is currently standing, but she watches as the Aussie brings the chocolate bear paw, which he had charmed from them with a dazzling smile and kind word, from behind his back and presents it to the slimmer man.

The reaction is instantaneous as the other man breaks into a grin which splits his face and throws his arms around the younger man with a great ferocity. His hearty laugh mixes with his co-star’s high one, and then the thinner man greedily grabs the bear paw and proceeds to devour it with large, gnawing bites not unlike that of an actual bear.

“They’re foolin’ around if not knockin’ boots,” she finally comments.

“Right!?” excitedly exclaims the woman who had asked the question in the first place. She tucks a loose strand of her frizzy hair before crowding closer so as not to be overheard. “Word has it that they’re sharing a trailer to ‘cut costs.’” Air quotes accompany her last two words.

The other woman wistfully looks back to the pair of actors and sighs. “It’s always the good ones.”

“Psssh. You never had a chance in the first place. And you can still look.”

The Aussie frees his hair from its restricting ponytail and briefly shakes out his golden locks before gathering it back up in its band again. She sighs again. “That’s for sure.”

* * *

“So what have we got next?” asks Harvey Levin as he taps his marker against the transparent whiteboard.

“Uh, we’ve got Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston leaving a movie theater together,” comments Max as he fiddles with his backwards baseball cap.

“Who?” asks Harvey with furrowed eyebrows.

“Thor and Loki from the Marvel movies,” clarifies Nina Parker from the side.

“Okay,” says Harvey slowly as he starts to write ‘Norse gods’ on the whiteboard. “What’s so special about that? Two male co-stars going to the movies together on a friend date.”

Some snickers and knowing smiles come from the staff members who know what’s coming next.

“That’s the thing,” continues Max. “Right now, they’re filming some high profile Oscar flick centering around two lovers.”

“Sounds about like half of every movie ever made,” quips Harvey. This gets some chuckles from assorted staff members.

“And these two guys are playing the lovers,” finishes the blond staff member.

A chorus of ‘oos’ and ‘aahs’ chorus around the room, and Harvey repeatedly lowers his hands in a calming gesture to get them all to quiet down. “What is this? Middle school?” Despite this, he turns back to the board and jots down ‘Nordic incest’ under the initial headline.

“And some sources are saying that they’re onscreen chemistry is a little too electrifying if you know what I mean,” finishes Max with a waggling of his eyebrows.

Harvey nods finally getting the point and underlines his words three times for emphasis. “But what if it’s just a weird publicity plant?” he points out.

“Or just two co-stars enjoying a movie together,” pipes up one curly haired female staff member.

“Sure, practically leaving hand in hand and in the same car,” argues Max as he plays with his hat again. “Hiddleston was weirdly friendly to all the cameras, but Hemsworth? I’m hearing he got all caveman protective.”

“Isn’t Thor married?” points out the same curly haired staff member.

“Oooo,” marvels Harvey before adding ‘Infidelity?’ to his list.

“Yep,” chimes in Nina. “But they might have some weird kinky thing going on, since he was spotted with his little wifey and kid two days afterwards.”

Harvey hums while drawing a triangle and then the word ‘threesome’ on the board as well. “What’s the online reaction been?”

“Asides from the usual vitriolic trolls, a weird amount of people seem to be creaming themselves over this development,” answers Max. “All sorts of memes have been born.”

Harvey laughs at this. “Filming for the next Avengers movie is definitely going to be interesting.”

* * *

“Isn’t it like kissing your brother in some respects? Actually, it sort of is!”

Both Chris and Tom manage to suppress a twinge at the question. They’re now into the promoting part of their film, and they’ve lost count of how many times they’ve been asked this question in its various forms. At least at the film festivals, the journalists at the panels dressed their questions up more tactfully. Those questions had been about the specific characters they were playing and what that process was about. Now circling the junket that speaks to the masses, they get to deal with the blunt questions.

Chris decides to tackle it first as Tom undoubtedly has an essay length response for this question alone. “Oh, god no! I would never think of kissing my brothers the way I’m kissing Tom in this movie. The thought of kissing my brothers was the furthest thing from my mind during our more intimate scenes.”

The interviewer is not swayed by the attempt at defusing the atmosphere. “But still. It has to be a little strange transforming your antagonistic sibling dynamic into an all consuming passionate lover’s dynamic.”

“There’s a misunderstanding about the relationship Chris and I share,” Tom answers quickly. Chris adjusts in his chair knowing this is going to be a long one by the tone in Tom’s voice. “In order to correctly portray all the hurt and pain that goes into Thor and Loki’s dynamic, we have to actually get along in real life. Which we do, magnificently. So we take this very real friendship we share, and twist all the real life camaraderie to make the bittersweet product you see.”

The interviewer had been caught between looking from Tom to the way Tom’s fingers danced about in the air as he answered the question. The interviewer inhales so as to ask another question, but Tom continues on like the Energizer Bunny.

“And so we come to this movie where we have to play two people who ardently love each other but try and avoid it until they can no longer deny it. Once again, we just take that relationship of ours, and we just bend the emotions. If it’s easy to hate someone you actually like, than it’s infinitely easier to give in to that morsel of love buried within and just love them with all your being.” He takes Chris’ hand in his own and laces their fingers together with a silly smile on his face. “And as we all know, I love Chris Hemsworth,” he states in a joking tone.

Catching on, Chris switches hands to hold so that he can drape his arm around Tom’s shoulders and squeeze it companionably. He also nuzzles his head into Tom's neck which the other man goes along with. “And I love Tom Hiddleston,” he adds with a wide smile which also suggests for the interviewer to move on from this line of questioning.

He finally gets it and moves on to asking about what it was like working with a first time director. Chris and Tom remain in their position for the duration of the interview for pure shits and giggles.

* * *

“Shit,” mutters Chris as he flips another tabloid in the aisle so the cover is not facing him.

“Chris,” admonishes Elsa as she looks up at her husband and then down to two-year-old India in her arms.

“Sorry, dear,” apologizes Chris as he loads their groceries on to the conveyor belt.

“What is it?” she quietly asks.

“Just another stupid tabloid,” answers Chris grimly as he places a rack of ribs behind the loaves of French bread.

She reaches for the magazine he had just held and flips it so the cover is facing outward. On the cover is a picture of him and Tom just walking with Chris’ head turned towards the Brit in conversation. “Co-Stars Go a Little Too Method” proclaims the title. With a soft titter, she picks it up and adds it to their list of purchases.

Chris looks down at her with confusion evident in his eyes.

She simply shrugs her shoulders. “I think it’s funny,” she explains. “They’re always wrong. I would know as I’ve had my fair share of being on the cover back home.”

His face falls a bit at that, but she continues to smile just to show him that it no longer affects her as it should not affect him.

“Is Tom coming tonight?” she asks while they’re on the subject of her husband’s British co-star.

“Yeah, said he wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Elsa smiles and readjusts India who coos happily. “He’s such a sweetheart. And tell him that he doesn’t need to bring anything.”

“You know he’ll bring something regardless,” points out Chris. “He’ll give me an earful about being an awful guest and insist on bringing the nicest bottle of wine he can get his hands on.”

“I guess you’re right,” concedes the Spanish woman. “Just as well since he has such excellent taste.”

Chris nods in agreement. “That he does.”

* * *

“And the Oscar goes to,” begins Anne Hathaway as she slips a finger under the envelope and slides out the card containing the winner’s name, “Chris Hemsworth.”

The round of applause which breaks out afterwards almost goes unnoticed by Chris as shock overwhelms him. It must show on his face as both Tom and Elsa shake him out of his stupor so that he can get on stage to accept his award.

He works his stiff legs up the stage and gives Anne a perfunctory kiss to the cheek while he takes the little golden statue in his hands. The lights are absolutely blinding which help fuel his feelings of being dazed.

“Wow,” is what he finally says. Soft laughter responds but all those voices in the theater combine to make it sound like a small rumble. “This was very unexpected but saying that I’d just like to thank all of the usual suspects: the Academy, my agent, my parents, my brother Luke, who first inspired me, my brother Liam, who helped me to that first step, the studio, my wife, and finally my co-star, Tom. Tom, you always push me to do my best. Getting to meet you has been one of the highlights of my career, and I cherish having worked with one of my best friends on so many projects. This might get me in trouble, but I’ve already won: good luck, Tom. You deserve it.”

With that, he walks offstage to another polite round of applause. He takes a deep breath before he is escorted to the wall of paparazzi who shoot picture after picture of him with his trophy. It takes all of his restraint to not whoop and holler about the stage like Cuba Gooding Jr, but a nervous sort of jump does eventually escape him right before he has to make yet another speech to the reporters.

He finally does get back to his seat during one of the commercial breaks, and he is being fiercely hugged by Elsa and given pats on the back from the surrounding crew. After all that, Tom hugs him as well and whispers, “Congrats” into his ear.

“You’re going to be up there next,” assures Chris as they break apart.

“Come on,” says Tom. “You were the breakaway of the film. You were absolutely brilliant—“

“And you carried the movie,” finishes Chris. “You were basically the gem in the crown that was our movie. It’s practically in the bag.”

Tom flushes, and Elsa hisses, “Now you’ve jinxed it.”

But then fifteen minutes later, Viola Davis is on stage opening the envelope for Best Actor. “And the Oscar goes to,” she pauses either for dramatic effect or to take the time to read the name on the card. “Tom Hiddleston.”

Without another thought, Chris turns to Tom and grabs his face to give him a quick, congratulatory close mouthed kiss on the lips. Tom is still smiling silly when he pulls away right before Elsa jumps in to also give him two pecks on both his cheeks. Everyone else is clapping Tom on the shoulder, and it’s a miracle that he manages to make it to the stage.

“I just got double-teamed by the Hemsworths,” says Tom in a daze after getting his statue and standing in front of the thin microphone. Genuine laughter bubbles up to meet this remark. “Umm, I’d like to thank the Academy, my agent, my mother, the various teachers I’ve had throughout my career. You know who you are, and each of you has imparted your own valuable insight which has helped me get here. And Chris. I can at least be glad for your sake I won or else that would be some serious egg on your face.” This arouses some titters from the audience. “But in all seriousness, you also push me to be better. You dare me to reach certain heights I didn’t even know existed. You are a great soul, and I relish any more future work together.”

He is also met with polite applause when he finally walks off, and Chris can only wait as to when Tom will return to his seat. When the Brit comes back, he is absolutely glowing, and Chris knows the feeling.

At the end of the ceremony, when the four acting winners are gathered for a photo op, Tom and Chris just continue smiling at each other. Amidst the flash of light bulbs, Tom leans his statue towards Chris’ statue and makes it so that they’re kissing.

“You’re such a giant kid,” teases Chris as he slings his arm around Tom. He honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fourth section is an imagined TMZ scenario. 
> 
> With the presenters at the end, it's always the previous year's winner who presents for the opposite gender. Even though this is all fictional, I'm pretty sure Hathaway's winning this year, and I just desperately want Viola Davis to win one some day. She's amazing.


	2. All the Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris is rather confused in the face of Tom's reaction to a comic book.

"Tom, are you okay?"

The Brit adamantly shakes his head from side to side while another strange sobbing noise escapes his throat.

Chris slowly kneels down to be level with him and gently grasps his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

Tom immediately tosses down the comic clutched between his hands and flings his long spindly arms around Chris. The Aussie manages to stay grounded as his co-star starts hysterically dry heaving into the nape of his neck.

"Uhhh, Tom?"

"I thought we could have both!" squeaks Tom in a high pitched voice. A warm fluttering fans across Chris' neck as Tom gasps some more. "But not this! This is as if," he takes a large inhale, "I've fallen through a large pit of despair and won't crawl back from it!"

Chris begins rubbing circles into Tom's back as he tries to calm him down. "You mean like Loki?"

This only causes Tom to clutch even tighter and sob harder. Chris laments having worn his favorite t-shirt as he feels a dampness building up in the spot where Tom's face is burrowing into him.

Chris continues to stroke his back in a comforting manner even though he has no idea what has set Tom off. "It'll... be... o...kay?"

Looking around, his eyes finally catch sight of the inside of the comic Tom had just been reading. The pages are open to lovely illustrations of what looks like a tender moment between Thor and a childlike version of Loki. It's like viewing closeups of an oil painting. Despite a lack of context, he thinks it's beautiful.

Just as he's about to ask Tom, Zach comes racing around the corner with a similar issue in his hand.

"Damnit, Tom! Why'd you ever introduce me to this! I can't deal!" The American actor stops short as he finally takes in the scene before him. His announcement seems to set off Tom again, and Chris can't help but give their new co-star a sharp look.

His mouth goes into an 'O' shape but rather then back off, he drops down without another word and wraps his arms around the two of them. "It's okay, man. We still have January," says Zach though his voice cracks on the last syllable.

"It won't be the same!" whines Tom in that same high pitched tone again.

Then he and Zach dissolve into tears.

Chris remains in his awkward state before finally asking the million dollar question. "What the hell are you guys reading?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are indeed reacting to Journey Into Mystery #645.


	3. Make It All Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris catches Tom during a vulnerable moment where the latter is suffering from some minor character bleed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other authors have done beautiful service to this little fanart by [westishere](http://westishere.tumblr.com/post/23230517811/i-just-want-to-make-it-alright-for-him-tom), and this is my particular take.

When Chris enters the prop room, he is struck by how empty it is for the first time since he has been on the set. He waves the prop hammer in his hand to and fro and calls out just to see if someone's hidden nearby. He doesn't want to end up on their shit list for not having properly returned his props. In response, he hears a flurry of sniffles. Brows furrowing together, he tries to peer over the racks of costumes before him and then walks towards the source of the noise as curiosity overwhelms him.

Throughout the room are hanging lamps with bare bulbs which cast a dim glow on the objects it touches. Such is the way he finds Tom: still in costume and bathed in a warm, yellow glow. He has his back to Chris as he leans against the wall, and Chris observes how his shoulders hunch forward almost defensively.

"Tom," he calls softly, "are you okay?"

Tom jumps at the sound of his voice, seems to swipe at his face, and whips around with wide eyes and pinched lips. He relaxes upon seeing that it is Chris and replies, "Oh! Yes! Didn't hear you there." He gives him a smile which doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"I figured," says Chris as he slowly places his hammer on a nearby table while keeping his eyes trained on Tom. Despite initially relaxing, Tom still holds himself stiffly. "Are you sure you're all right?" He clasps a hand to the Brit's shoulder.

"Of course," replies Tom in a wavering voice. He shakes his head slightly. "It's nothing, really. Completely ridiculous, actually. Just getting more emotionally attached than necessary to the character is all," he rattles off as he folds his arms in front of his chest and tries to tuck his head in.

“Character bleed,” murmurs Chris with understanding. “It gets the best of us, mate,” he says while clapping a reassuring hand to Tom’s shoulder. “Can’t say I blame you. Intense scene, that last one what with all the emotions running haywire. I almost thought you were actually going to break through my padding and stab me for real.” He smiles and nods in remembrance. “Easy to get carried away.”

“That’s the thing,” says Tom in a distressed tone as he unfolds himself just to start wringing his hands. “As Loki, I get swept into the moment and all the anger and jealousy and rage fuels me to new heights…But then it’s over, and when I detach myself…” He gulps as he searches for his next words and closes his eyes. “This overwhelming sadness presses down on my shoulders as if I’ve failed.” He opens his eyes to narrow slits born from weariness.”I try not to analyze Loki from the outside in fear of judging him and tainting the performance, but I can’t help it. I want him to reach out and take the hand Thor is offering him, but I know that’s not where he is right now. He’s much too proud at this point.” He dips his head and presses both palms to his eyes, takes a deep breath, and sigh it all out. His body shudders with the exhale. “But I wish to god he wasn’t. I wish that he could take that hand and grasp it for all its worth rather than vehemently slap away as if it were poison.”

Tom starts shaking at this point, and Chris remembers the tear trickling from Tom’s eye as he spouted his line about sentiment. Without hesitation, Chris winds an arm around Tom’s back and pulls the man closer. His other hand finds purchase on the nape of Tom’s neck, and he squeezes gently hoping to ease the tension out of Tom’s body.

In response, Tom’s hands find purchase on his broader shoulders. Chris also feels Tom’s head nestle into his shoulder and just continues his ministrations. As Tom’s breath continues to curl around his shoulders, Chris chooses to say nothing but instead draws Tom even closer to him. He rubs small circles into the small of Tom’s back.

“I just want to make it all right for him,” confesses Tom in a voice so quiet that Chris would have missed it were it not for the proximity of Tom’s mouth to his ear. Another shiver from the leaner man prompts Chris to continuously smooth down the tangles of his unnatural black hair.

“I know,” he murmurs. “But unfortunately, that’s just not in the cards at the moment.” He flinches internally at what he has just said.

Tom clings even tighter and is silent for awhile. Then he morosely replies, “I know.”

If Tom was not already fully pressed against him, then Chris would have held him even closer. He settles for the continual petting of Tom’s hair all the while kicking himself for bringing Tom down even more. “It’s not all lost. There’s always a chance in the sequel,” he offers lamely.

Tom shakes again, and the quick breaths against his shoulder make him fear that he has truly said the wrong thing. Then Tom tilts his head back, and Chris sees the small smile that does light up his eyes. The shaking is a product of laughter— or rather a slight chuckle. “You’re absolutely right,” he responds softly. “Why dwell on the faults of today when the promise of tomorrow gleams so brightly?” This time when he sighs it is as if a large burden has rolled off his back.

Tom suddenly becomes self-conscious about the position they are in, and his cheeks redden. “Th-thank you for this. I really needed it.” His tongue pokes out as he chuckles some more.

“Anytime, Tom,” he replies as he tucks some stray hairs behind the Brit’s ear.

Tom once again draws near, but his arms snake around Chris’ neck to bring the broader man into a hug. Chris quickly reciprocates by drawing his own arms around Tom’s back. They revel in the comfort the other’s body brings under the glow of the bare bulb. In the ensuing silence, nothing more needs to be said for now.


	4. I Get a Kick Out of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom surprises a few people by taking out a crazy fan who attacks Chris.

"FOR LOKIIIII!!!" squeals the girl who had somehow gotten on to the set (with weapons nonetheless), knocked out Hemsworth with a metal mallet probably lifted from the set builders, straddled the dazed actor and had an ice pick racing towards his face.  
  
Everyone had somehow been frozen with shock when the mallet had gone hurtling from the crowd to make contact with the back of Chris' head. All except one.  
  
In a strange blur of bright yellow, Tom does a diving roll before popping up by Chris' side. Appearing dizzy, what with the swaying side to side with his arms and upper body lowered, he then does a movement with his legs wherein one foot makes solid contact with the attacker so as to shove her off of Chris.  
  
Tumbling back off of Chris' body but still managing to get to her knees while fiercely clutching the weapon, Tom kicks  again so as have her on her back.  
  
Chris finally has enough wits about him to weakly scramble back which provides Tom with enough room to pounce on the girl and hold her down.  
  
She looks up at him with betrayal written all over her face with widened eyes and a trembling bottom lip. "But-but I th-thought...It was for you."  
  
Tom doesn't try to lift her spirits in any way and instead sternly shakes his head at her with disapproval weighing heavy on his brow. "SECURITY!" is what he calls and soon enough two red-faced men bumble on and take the threat away.  
  
Turning around while wiping his hands on to his puffy jacket, he is met all across the board with surprise.  
  
With a shake of his head, he ignores the questioning glances and instead kneels by Chris, who is clutching the back of his head with loud groans. He helps Chris sit up and frowns when he feels the back of the younger man's head.  
  
"Where's the bloody medic?" he mutters angrily.  
  
"Probably afraid to come near you," answers Chris before hissing as Tom touches a certain spot on his head.  
  
"I'll give them something to be afraid of," mutters Tom, who squeezes Chris' hand in a show of comfort despite his irritation at the all around lack of professionalism on display today.  
  
They finally do show up, inspecting Chris' head and declaring that it'd be better for him to go to the hospital as the girl had thrown quite viciously and accurately. Tom remains with him the whole way there and even spends the night as the hospital deemed it safer to keep Chris overnight.

Returning to the set with the patched up Aussie, they are welcomed back by various cast and crew who offer well wishes to Chris and glowing praise to Tom.  
  
One of the first ones to be upfront with him about what's really on his mind is Zach (who Tom really had gotten along with marvelously so bless him for this as well).  
  
"What was that yesterday with little miss crazy getting the drop on you? Are these just for show?" He squeezes Chris' large arms for emphasis but restrains himself at the last second from patting the Aussie's abs.  
  
Jaimie swats him on the arm. "Can't do much when someone sneaks up on you."  
  
"Screeching like a banshee before throwing a hammer isn't exactly the definition of surprise," points out Zach.  
  
"Chris is actually quite gentle," says Tom defensively as he softly pats the sitting Aussie's shoulder. A return squeeze of Chris' warm hand lets him know it's appreciated.  
  
"What!?" sputters Zach. "But what about that fight that one time with the nostril flares and the paparazzi?" A mutually silent groan descends over the group, and Zach flushes as he realizes the brashness of his question. "So-sorry. Just forget I--"  
  
"No," says Chris with a sigh. "It's okay. Might as well clear the air about that one. I mean first of all, it was a bar brawl so the presence of alcohol wasn't exactly helping my judgment at the moment. Secondly, guy was talking shit about Liam's girlfriend so that mixed with No. 1 equals poor, drunken fighting with no technique."  
  
"And thus is born the poorly conceived train of thought that he's only a brute," finishes Tom.  
  
Another awkward beat of silence and then..."Well that sucks," says Zach.  
  
Chris simply shrugs while still stroking the hand on his shoulder. "It's probably for the best we keep our real powerhouse a secret."  
  
"Yeah," continues Zach with awe. "What was that? Some type of awesome-fu?" He starts moving his arms around in imitation but just looks like he's failing at break dancing.  
  
Failing to suppress her titter, Jaimie places hands on him to get him to stop. "Tom here is a jack of all trades," says the actress admiringly. "Between all sorts of capoeira lessons and knife handling movement from our last film--"  
  
"And all that beautiful scrumming and whatever else from rugby," inserts Chris.  
  
"Exactly," continues Jaimie with a nod of her head. "So don't be fooled by his svelte figure and stereotypical British primness."  
  
"Because I will kick your ass," remarks Tom with a lilting smile that treads the line between seriousness and humor.  
  
"And I couldn't be more happy about it," finishes Chris with a wide smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title originally derived from the fact that I had Tom kick the fan in the face. Someone at LJ deemed that as overkill, and taking it account, I toned it down a bit. 
> 
> I'm describing the capoeira move as I saw it on YouTube. Not that well, admittedly.


	5. Wishing We Weren't Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a vacation that took a turn for the strange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I consider this a companion to [Trouble in Paradise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/511616) in that Chris and Tom do not seem to have the best of luck with tropical islands. 
> 
> I also had Joe vs. the Volcano on the mind despite never having finished the movie.

“What the hell was that all about?!” huffs Tom as he nearly collapses on the shores of the sandy beach. He clenches his hands in the smooth white mounds and cherishes the grainy texture sliding between his fingers. With another exhale of relief, he lowers his head to the ground as if he were about to bury his own head in the sand.

The sounds of Chris’ harsh pants greet his ears, and Tom turns his head to look at the younger man who is bent over with broad hands planted against muscular thighs. His golden head peaks up, and Chris says with heaving gasps, “Damned if…I know…” He lifts an arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Something about…appeasing…the old…gods?”

Tom groans at this answer and falls bodily into the sand. “There’s some sort of irony in that, but I’m too arsed to figure it out,” he mumbles into the ground despite the particles of sand clumping together at the moisture provided by his mouth.

The warm rays beating down on his exposed back and the sound of the nearby waves crashing against each other nearly convince him that he is on the idyllic vacation he was supposed to be enjoying. Then his hand brushes against his body and the feel of the thick vines still around his arms remind him that that is not so.

The all encompassing burn of the sun is not at all like the musty warmth of whatever cavern he had been forced towards just moments ago. The soles of his feet still tingle in remembrance of digging against the ground in resistance and the subsequent dash through the jungle as he and Chris escaped.

Tom groans into the sand in an effort to wipe his mind. He really wouldn’t mind just continuing to lie on the beach until the tide dragged him into the ocean’s depths.

A tugging at his arms has him whipping his head just to see Chris has scooted over to his side. The other man chews on his bottom lip and works to remove the remaining vines from Tom’s limbs. Sunlight dances across the crown of his head, and Tom marvels at the flowers that remain braided in the younger man’s hair. Symbols of seeming hospitality now turned hostile.

His arm stretches up to grab at the flower. Chris initially leans back with brows scrunched together in confusion, but Tom’s hand waves limply at him. “There’s something in your hair.”

Chris’ broad hands immediately pat his head to find the foreign element. Tom lifts up into a kneeling position and swats at those hands to pick out the vibrantly orange flowers. Chris’ bright blue eyes follow his fingers as they flick the flora away from the both of them.

When done, Tom softly smoothes Chris’ hair back and tucks some errant strands behind his ear, allowing his hand to softly trail down the ends of his hair and into his own lap.

Chris’ hands take up their abandoned task of removing the thick, sticky vines wrapped around Tom’s arms. Tom could remove them himself, but he allows Chris this moment. The Aussie grips the twisted plant in his hands and flings them as far into the nearby jungle as he can. Then his hands drop down and find Tom’s. As their fingers entwine and eyes make contact, the younger man finally releases a long, heavy sigh.

“That’s the last time you get to choose the vacation spot,” says Chris as he attempts to suppress the smallest of smiles.

Tom nearly withdraws his hands and instead settles for cocking his head slightly. “Excuse me? May I remind you what happened on our last vacation?”

Chris does withdraw his hands this time to hold them up in an apologetic manner. “Hey! In my defense, at least that place was on a map.” He shrugs his shoulders. “And I get it now. Tropical islands just aren’t our thing. Especially, uncharted ones.”

Tom rakes a hand through the tufts of his hair and softly sighs in turn. “Bloody, local tour guide,” he mutters. “We really should’ve just stayed at the resort.”

“And miss out on nearly being sacrificed! Naaaah,” replies Chris sarcastically.

“Oh, just shut it, Hemsworth,” counters Tom with a roll of his eyes. He then leans his head into Chris’ solid shoulder and just sags into the other man. A hand wraps around him and—either absentmindedly or consciously it doesn’t really matter as it feels great either way—begins rubbing circles into his back. The feel of those rough fingers kneading and digging into his flesh practically has him melting into the other man.

Tom starts to think that maybe they can salvage some of this vacation. After they’ve found the boat and were halfway back to the mainland of course.

Then Chris opens his mouth.

“How the hell did they think you were a virgin though? The getup they had you in gave a perfect view of your ass which I thought would’ve clued them in.”

Tom’s hand delivers a swift slap to the back of Chris’ head.

“Hey!” says Chris indignantly. Tellingly though, he continues to rub away at Tom’s tense backside.

Now they can reclaim their vacation.


	6. Golden Arches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Tom enjoy some McDonalds.

“I thought the point of coming out was to shake up your eating regimen,” comments Tom before sucking down on his overly sweet sweet tea. “And doubling up on the 20 piece nugget deal, nonetheless? Enjoy that physique while you can,” he teases as he prods Chris’ side.

The younger man snorts and smacks Tom’s hand away while stuffing two nuggets slathered in BBQ sauce into his mouth. He chews contentedly all the while smiling at Tom.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Hiddleston,” remarks Chris after he has swallowed. “These beauties,” he says as he picks up another nugget and holds it between them, “are nothing like those things I’ve had to scarf down to maintain this.” He knocks a knuckle against his stomach, and Tom follows the motion appreciatively while nibbling on a fry.

“Is that so?”

“Verily,” jokes Chris as he nods his head. “Because these are gloriously deep fried processed leftovers. Molded together and sheathed in a beautiful golden shell.” He dips it slowly in the sauce and makes a show of licking it off before popping the whole thing in his mouth and chewing in an exaggerated fashion.

Tom misses his mouth, and his straw sharply pokes him in the cheek. Chris gives him a lopsided grin and eats another two nuggets.

The Brit hides his sulk by furiously sucking down on the rest of his drink. “You’re completely insufferable, Hemsworth. Do you know that?”

“Isn’t that why you love me?” asks Chris as he scoots closer on the hood of their rental car.

Tom tilts his head away and sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “Sorry to break it to you, but I’m just in it for your washboard abs.” He extends a hand to slowly pat said abs and reaches for a handful of the fried chicken leftovers with the other.

“But I’m afraid you’re not going to have those anymore if you keep stuffing your face with these.” He glances down at the golden nuggets. “In fact, let me help wean you off these.”

As he pops one in and savors its admittedly tasty flavor, Chris acts affronted.

“Hey! Get your own!”

“Really, Chris?” asks Tom as he inspects another nugget to eat. “You have 40 nuggets, and you can’t be bothered to share?”

In retaliation, Chris makes a grab for Tom’s remaining fries, but his hand is slapped away. Not to be deterred, he reaches for the drink and happily drains the remaining contents. His eyebrows practically shoot into his hairline as he yanks the straw out and sticks out his tongue.

“Ugh. How do you stand that much sugar?”

Tom pouts at Chris’ disapproval. “This coming from the man who is a self-proclaimed lover of fried chicken leftovers?”

Chris slings an arm across the Brit’s shoulder so as to huddle closer. “Ah, come on, Tom. You know that I know about your incurable sweet tooth.” He gives him a peck on the cheek. “Though nothing’s ever quite as sweet as you.”

Tom rolls his eyes yet scoots closer to Chris. He gently pats his thigh while knocking his head against Chris’. “I’m a fan of the saccharine not the cheese.”

Chris laughs while trying to draw him even closer. “If they sold onion rings, I’d get down on one knee and make an honest man out of you.”

Tom titters before responding. “Just what I’ve always envisioned. Being proposed to in the back lot of America’s most popular fast food franchise. Imagine it. They could cater our wedding, and you could have all the chicken nuggets your heart desired. And then said heart would soon give out, and I would be left a very distressed widower.”

“Well now, we can’t have that,” remarks Chris in faux seriousness. “What if I swear off the stuff after today?”

“You would do that for me?” asks Tom as he nuzzles his head into Chris’ neck.

“I’d do anything for you, Tom,” replies Chris with a tinge more sincerity than the tone of their conversation deserves.

“Well then I guess I could let you have one more,” says Tom as he takes the remaining nugget in his hand and dips into the BBQ sauce. He holds it up against Chris’ mouth. “Make it count,” he drawls.

Chris’ tongue laps out past the nugget slathered in sauce to the fingers below, and he does.


	7. Of Cops and Hostages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom gets caught up in a bank robbery.

The barrel of the gun presses into his side as a gloved hand yanks his arm behind him. He swallows a wince at the motion, and this only seems to spur the robber into shoving the gun even harder into his side.  
  
"Come on, gorgeous. You're coming with us," commands a voice that is obviously pitched down so that Tom won't be able to recognize it later. Or at least he hopes that's the case rather than some misplaced seduction growl.  
  
Tom complies with his captor by walking towards the door he is being directed to. This garners a hiss in his ear. "That's a good boy. Though I wouldn't object to a little fight."  
  
Tom decides keeping his mouth shut in this situation would be the best course of action despite the fact that several choice words rest on the tip of his tongue.  
  
The other robbers turn their masked faces to him, and though he cannot see their expression, the Brit can just feel the all of their eyes rolling at their partner. Somehow knowing that this might be standard protocol for this man does him no favors. Neither do the sympathetic looks the other bank patrons and employees aim at him.  
  
The other robbers peer out the door one at a time before edging out of it and presumably into the alley towards their getaway car. Tom is already formulating possible escape plans which involve minimal to no damage to his personal self. Then the gun travels from his side to underneath his chin, and he automatically comes to a stop as the cool metal travels up and down the length of his neck.  
  
"We're going to have lots of fun, you and me." He twists the captured arm into an even more awkward angle, and Tom can't help the small whimper that escapes from his throat.  
  
The cloth of the ski mask presses against the back of his neck, and he feels the barest brush of lips behind his ear as the robber presses them closer together. "Oh, yes. Those are the types of sounds I'm gonna have you making tonight."  
  
As if to contradict his very words, the sound of gunshots ring out in the air as the robber forces Tom out the door. In a stupor, the man actually goes towards the sounds rather than back into the safety of the bank and the guaranteed shield of more hostages.  
  
They end up scurrying into a wall of officers, and Tom watches with wide eyes as some of the other robbers are lying on the floor with hands on their heads while an unfortunate few who probably resisted lay prone with blood leaking from wounds in their legs.  
  
"RELEASE THE HOSTAGE AND SURRENDER WITH YOUR HANDS HELD HIGH," bellows one officer with his gun trained on the man holding Tom (which just feels like it's being aimed at him from this angle).  
  
Tom has a few seconds in which he registers the low, authoritative tone of that voice as well as the interesting quirk of the strange accent.  
  
Rather than comply, the demand compels the robber to release Tom's wrist just to clutch the upper section of his body. The gun shoves into the side of Tom's head. "GET THE FUCK AWAY BEFORE I BLOW HIS GODDAMN HEAD OFF!"  
  
Tom doesn't even bother trying to buck off the arm because of the sheer amount of terror sweeping through him at this moment.  
  
Rather than give in to that demand, the surrounding officers seem to regrip their guns with renewed force. "THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING," shouts the same officer whose steely, blue eyes shine with conviction.

The barrel shoves Tom's head some more, and the arm around his chest tigthens. "I'M NOT KIDDING EITHER. I WILL BLOW THIS MAN'S HEAD AWAY."

As if to show how serious he is, Tom feels the gun being removed from his head and sees from the corner of his mind how that arm stretches far away from him. Then a loud bang rattles the air and shakes him to his core followed shortly after (to the point of sounding simultaneous) by another bang. He feels the arm around his chest slacken a great deal, but he continues to stand in place purely out of shock.  
  
His heart hammers in his chest and pounds between his ears for what seems like an eternity before the assembled officers swarm on him. They're actually going after the fallen body of the bankrobber, but he's in danger of being swamped by tense officers who want statements right there and now. He doesn't respond as an arm takes hold of his shoulders and escorts him off to the side. After a few moments, he realizes he's being taken to a nearby paramedics van.  
  
"This isn't really necessary," he tries saying but knows right off the bat he's failed based on the croak in his voice.  
  
"You're going to want to catch your breath before the others come demanding a statement from you," states the officer firmly but not unkindly.  
  
Tom recognizes this to be the same voice which had been bellowing instructions at the robber just moments ago. He marvels at how a voice which had nearly had him shitting his own pants can now sound so soothing and reassuring right now. Glancing at the officer, he is struck by how handsome the other man is. A little voice yells at him for noticing such superficial things like that at a time like this, but the rest of him tells that voice to shove it due to the life harrowing experience they've just gone through.  
  
The officer has scruff on his face, and a jaw born to stop people in their tracks. He gets caught staring as those blue eyes glance over at him in turn, and the glimpse he gets before turning away in embarassment has his cheeks reddening. Tom doesn't miss how the officer's eyes crinkle in a smile, but he's greatful the man doesn't say anything else.  
  
The cop stays with him as the paramedics check him over. They deem him fine and slap a blanket on him for shock. Tom plays with the fringes of the thin fabric and tries not to revel in the fact the cop has remained by his side.  
  
"So will you be taking my statement now, Officer...." he glances at the man's badge, "Hemsworth?"  
  
"Uh, yes, of course," blusters the man as he reaches for a previously unseen pad. Tom finds the tiny slip-up rather endearing.  
  
The following question and answer routine isn't as traumatizing as Tom had dreaded. Hemsworth is tactful and precise and lets him talk on and on which is nice because Tom is aware of the fact that he can monologue for days. The man pens down some final thoughts and sensing the line of questioning is done, Tom asks, "If you don't mind, who shot the last robber? I'd like to thank that person."  
  
Hemsworth's lips purse together, and Tom can't help but wonder what they would feel like. "That would be me," he admits.  
  
"Oh," says Tom at first. Then without really thinking, he reaches for the man's hands and squeezes. "Thank you very much. I owe you my life."  
  
Hemsworth doesn't pull away and bestows him with a tight smile. "No need to thank me. I was just doing my job."  
  
"And again, I thank you for that," emphasizes Tom as he smiles in turn. Then his hands decide to betray him by trembling, and he quickly withdraws them by tucking them into the folds of his flimsy blanket.  
  
In a flash, Hemsworth pulls out a card and holds it out to him. "You've been through a traumatic event. If you ever feel the need, here is the address and phone number of a nearby relief center. It's got a great, thoughtful staff."

Tom blinks before taking the card in hand. "Oh. Umm, thank you." He thinks he's imagining the way that broad hand seems to linger over his own as the card is passed off.  
  
"And if you ever need a familiar face to talk to, I do some hours there myself. Off the clock of course," he quickly adds.  
  
Tom's eyebrow quirks up, and a small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. "Is that so? And, umm, when would that happen to be?" The little voice is scolding him for being flirtatious at a time like this, but if anything, this whole experience had taught him to grab life by the horns.  
  
"Ummm, here. Let me right that down." Hemsworth gets the card back to scribble something on the back. Getting it back in hand, Tom's a bit disappointed to find it actually is just days and hours rather than a phone number. A bit of disappointment tints him.  
  
"Thank you, Officer," he responds with a sigh.  
  
A clap on the shoulder has him looking up into those twinkling blue eyes. A more relaxed smile rests on the other man's face. "It's Chris once I'm off duty. And I hope to see you."  
  
Tom's brows rise up again before the implication of his sentence hits him. The delightfully solid hand leaves his shoulder as the officer backpedals. "Not that I want for you to be suffering from undue stress. I just--"  
  
Tom's hand reaches out to hold his hand and pat it reassuringly with a large smile on his face. "Understood and reciprocated, Mr. Hemsworth." He's pleased with the way he gets the other man's name to roll of his tongue. From the looks of it, so is Chris. He's rewarded with another beaming smile, and he briefly wonders if the man carries his cuffs with him even while off duty.


	8. With a Bow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa presents Chris with a lovely Christmas gift.

“I think I’m loving this already,” jokes Chris as Elsa guides him down their hallway. A tingle travels up his spine due to the fact that he is only in his briefs, and his hand slightly shakes in her smaller grip. His other hand attempts to lift the blindfold around his eyes just for a quick peak.

“Not if you ruin it by peaking,” scolds Elsa as her petite hand slaps his larger one away. 

A little smirk sidles on to his face at the action, and he holds the offending hand away in a show of surrender. “Can’t fault me for trying to sneak a glimpse,” he reasons.

“Yes, I can,” chides his wife. “Now hurry up. Your present is plenty restless as is.”

Those words almost have him halting in place with Elsa yanking on his larger bulk. An image of some animal scampering around the room enters his mind. An animal that hasn’t had its shots and is accumulating all sorts of bacteria that could pose a threat to India.

“You didn’t get a puppy did you? Cause I thought we’d discussed this and agreed that—“

“It’s not a pet,” corrects Elsa quickly, “but it’s also not something to be left unattended so stop stalling.” Despite her smaller physique, she manages to make Chris stumble forward a few more steps by tugging on his arm.

He’s about to protest again when she somehow gets behind him and pushes him over the threshold of what he presumes is their guest room based on the direction they had been heading in. His hands go flying out in front of him to stop him from smashing into some piece of furniture he was unaware of while his feet try to drag across the plush carpeting in order to slow his progress. His knee brushes against the plush comforter of the guest bed, and he lightly places his fingertips on top of the surface of the bed. His fingers trace the intricate designs embedded in the comforter and is about to make a quip about his present being a change of scenery when a peculiar sound meets his ears.

It’s the slightest intake of breath, but it stands out to Chris for how surprised it sounds therefore eliminating Elsa as this whole thing was of her devising.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” croons his wife with a smile in her voice as she presses a kiss to his backside before finally pulling off the blindfold.

When his eyes finally adjust to the dimmed lighting of the room, the first thing he takes in is the sight of Tom on the bed. Tom who lies splayed out before him stark naked save for the splashes of red ribbon wound around his limbs. Ribbons which stand out for the contrast they make against his pale skin with a bow on his bound ankles, one presumably around the wrists pulled behind his back, a big red one draped about his shoulders, and a very eye catching bow tied around Tom’s hardened package.

His British co-star looks up at him nervously and gulps. His teeth clamp down harder around the thick candy cane placed across his mouth, and Chris spots his tongue licking at the peppermint flavored confection. A swell of saliva seems to be gathering at the corner of his mouth, and Chris swipes his thumb slowly across Tom’s bottom lip before wiping it away. The other actor noticeably shivers at the touch, and Chris delights in it.

Elsa’s small hand rubs a circle into the small of his back, and it snaps Chris out of his momentary daze to remind him that his wife is still present.  She presses another kiss into his bicep. “Enjoy unwrapping your present, dear.”

Silence settles around the room for just a moment only to be interrupted by the distinct click of the door being closed. Without a second thought, Chris mounts the bed and straddles Tom about the waist. He tugs slowly on the ribbon around his shoulders and clears it away to be presented with the expanse of Tom’s body.

 He leans down, caging Tom with his arms and presses his lips against Tom’s. As usual, he is met with what would be a close-lipped kiss save for the candy cane keeping the older man’s mouth open. Chris’ tongue darts into the warmth of Tom’s, and Tom hums pleasurably at the sensation.

Chris’ tongue wraps around the width of the holiday candy and pulls away from Tom. He watches with amazement as the shortest string of saliva momentarily connects the cane to Tom’s mouth. Clamping his own teeth down on the candy, his tongue savor’s the warmth on the peppermint cane from where Tom’s mouth had just been. He suckles on it hard to ingest all the flavors.

Tom peers up at him from beneath his eyelashes. A small smile sidles on to the side of his face. “I thought I was supposed to be the treat? Honestly, Chris. Making me jealous of a piece of ca—“

His sentence is cut off as Chris tosses aside the cane and smashes his mouth against Tom’s. Chris begins to suckle on Tom’s lips just as he had been suckling on the candy. Tom’s mouth actually opens up in surprise which Chris takes full advantage of by caressing the Brit’s tongue with his own. He chases the taste of peppermint that still remains in the cavern of Tom’s mouth, and Tom seems to do likewise, accompanied by a pleasurable sound resonating from the back of his throat.

The wriggling body beneath him serves to remind Chris of Tom’s bound state, but he’s not quite in the mindset of ripping open the wrapping on his gift no matter how tantalizing said gift may be. He’s going to take his time.

With one last swipe inside of Tom’s mouth, he nibbles softly on the other man’s thin, bottom lip. The slight intake of breath encourages him to continue his trail of sloppy kisses down his jaw and to momentarily concentrate on his throat. The vibrations travelling up and down Tom’s throat as he moans with pleasure tingle Chris’ lips and stir him to bite lightly at the juncture of his neck. This causes Tom to cry out breathily.

Chris licks a stripe to Tom’s shoulder blade and sinks his teeth in. Not enough to break skin of course but hard enough to leave a mark. Tom cries out and bucks up against him. Chris unclamps and runs his tongue against the indentations all while softly rubbing his hand up Tom’s side. His thumb steadily rubs one nipple while his mouth makes another kissing trail down to his pec to the other one. Taking the little nub in his mouth, he alternately sucks and nibbles on it while teasing the other one with his hand.

Tom alternates between gasping and calling out his name. With a little swirl, Chris lifts his head up and makes eye contact with Tom. His eyes are wide, and his lips parted with anticipation. With a little smirk, he gets to work on the other nipple which elicits another gasping shudder from Tom. His other hand rubs the dampened one, and Tom rocks underneath him Chris moves his hips in likewise rhythm. Another bite produces another cry from Tom which moves him a step closer to coming undone.

Leaving his nipples, he once again trails kisses down Tom’s body and murmuring quiet praises for the other man to hear. Ending at his stomach, Chris swings his leg back over so they’re on both sides and starts to tantalizingly rub Tom’s thighs. Glancing down at his package, Chris’ eyebrows rise in approval at how Tom’s at half-mast. The sight of it emboldens it more, and he slowly drags his broad hands down Tom’s sinfully long legs.

Slowly lifting them so that Tom’s at an angle, Chris once again starts kissing at the thigh and trails down his leg. He bends the legs, with Tom’s compliance, so as to get better access towards the end. Undoing the bow around his ankles, he situates himself between Tom’s legs by placing one beside him while holding on to the other one.

The new view is absolutely delectable with Tom’s chest rising and falling in a quick rhythm with the gleam of saliva and patches of darkened skin from hickeys and bites scattered across his upper body.

Pressing a kiss to the inside of his ankle, he once more runs his hand along the inside of the Brit’s leg, squeezing the thigh for emphasis which produces another small shudder.

Just like with Tom’s chest, Chris does not hesitate to leave a wet trail with his mouth down Tom’s leg, lowering both it and his leg as he gets closer to Tom’s fully hardened cock.

“I love how these go on for miles,” muses Chris as he nips at the inside which gets a jerk of movement. “And I’m going to ride,” a kiss to the recent nip, “every single one.”

Tom’s slightly uneven breathing reaches his ear before his shaky voice says, “G-get on with it!”

“So impatient,” teases Chris as he takes the second to last ribbon between his teeth and slowly tugs on it. The pull of the ribbon does nothing to effect Tom’s erection.

“You fucking tea—AAH!” yelps the Brit as Chris licks from the middle of Tom’s shaft to the top of the head. He nearly bolts up, but Chris’ palms grip the trembling thighs to steady them.

Without further ado, Chris takes the head into his mouth, runs his tongue underneath and sucks. Tom cries out louder than before, and his thighs tremble even more in some kind of restraint. Chris takes in more, swiping and swirling his tongue underneath as his cheeks hollow out from sucking. Whatever was left of Tom’s restraint dissolves as incoherent syllables spill from normally eloquent lips, and he tries bucking up into Chris’ wet mouth. Chris continues to hold him down and alternately bobs his head along Tom’s length.  This elicits more gasps and moans from the other man along with some erratic hip movements.

“Jesus, Chris! I’m g-gonna—“ The rest of his words are cut off by a delicious moan which is Chris’ cue to unlatch his mouth with a little kiss to Tom’s leaking tip.

“Wha-wha-what are you d-doing, you bastard!” exclaims Tom as he writhes his head from side to side on the pillow. His breathing is quick, and his eyes are blown wide as he pins Chris with his gaze.

Chris maintains eye contact with him as he leans over to the nightstand to grab the unopened bottle of lube that Elsa presumably left there and begins to slather his fingers in the substance.

“Finishing you off properly, of course,” he answers before wrapping his mouth around Tom’s dick once again and simultaneously inserting his finger into Tom’s tight hole.

He sucks slowly on the head while easing his finger in an out of Tom’s hole. His back has arched off by now, and Chris goes along with it. When he adds the second finger, one long leg hooks around the back of his head and starts senselessly jerking him closer. Chris sucks even harder while doing a scissoring motion with his fingers. The leg around his head kicks forward, and Tom screams out as he finally releases.

Chris swallows it all swirls his tongue around the tip as he removes his mouth again. He wipes his mouth with one hand, but the other remains within Tom, widening him.

Panting heavily, Tom can only twitch in response to a gesture which Chris can only deem as favorable. Leaning down, Chris trails sloppy kisses back up Tom’s chest as he digs and crooks his fingers within Tom’s passage. Little cries emanate from the other man’s mouth, and between their pressed bodies, Chris can feel his cock stirring to hardness again. His own is now achingly hard, and the very sight of Tom flushed like this is threatening to bring him to release.

 His free hand digs beneath Tom’s back and undoes the final ribbon. Shaky arms finally come into view and slim fingers grasp the thick comforter.

The fingers within Tom’s passage finally slip out, and Chris coats his cock with lube. Tom’s legs miraculously lift of their own accord to try and wrap around Chris’ waist.

Blue meets blue as they make contact, and with a slight nod, Tom says in a husky tone, “Bury it.”

That’s all Chris needs before he’s lining it up and thrusting within Tom. Once more, the Brit’s back arches, and his mouth opens in a silent cry. Then the second thrust produces a much more vocal result. Chris has enough control that he’s set up a good pace, and despite the fact that round two has come so early for Tom, he manages to meet Chris’ pace. Soon enough though, Tom stutters off, and Chris takes him in hand and strokes him until a stream of white paints Tom’s body

Digging his fingers into Tom’s hips, Chris follows suit soon after with one last push, and he slumps on to his arms right above Tom. Planting a kiss on Tom’s thoroughly drenched forehead, Chris unlatches and lies next to him in a sweaty heap. The room fills with the sound of their irregular, disjoined breathing.

Extending his arm to the nightstand, Chris comes upon a washcloth (thanks again to Elsa) and starts wiping away at Tom’s abdomen. Done with the task, he gets an arm around Tom’s thin shoulders and draws the other man closer. They share an open kiss on the mouth with both men playing with the other’s dangling hair.

“I hope you enjoyed your present,” murmurs Tom through barely open eyes as he starts to drift off.

Pressing one last kiss to Tom’s forehead, Chris responds, “Believe me. I did.” And if Tom was unconvinced, then Chris would be sure to assure him whenever they woke up.  And with Elsa’s assistance.


	9. Forsaking All Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom puts up a nice front until he wants something he can't have. And that something happens to be Chris.

The clicking of the door signals the departure of the last outsider, leaving the two actors the lone occupants of the room. Chris squirms into the overstuffed cushions and has half a mind to spring up and follow suit. The few moments of silence already seem stifling and awkward, and he knows he won’t be able to handle any more of it.

Chancing a glance at Tom, he sees the other man is simply straightening out any perceived wrinkles on his pants. As if feeling eyes on him, Tom turns his head a little so that his gray-blue eyes lock with Chris’. After a beat a soft little smile graces Tom’s face, and Chris feels the clamp around his heart lessen just a bit.

This is the Tom he knows well. His friend with the gracious soul who bestows genuinely friendly smiles on everyone he meets. Chris offers a smile in return as long as a little nod of his head. Just as he faces forward again, he imagines that the soft edges of Tom’s smile stretch out a little more into something more insidious. He would chalk it up to a trick of the light if this hadn’t been an unfortunate reoccurrence.

Recently, Chris feels as if he’s caught the tail end of many a more-than-friendly glance from Tom. During this leg of the promotional tour, they’ve exchanged plenty of hugs and other similarly friendly touches. But sometimes, Chris thinks he feels arms that linger for a second too long. And though he is no stranger to the superfluous amounts of praise Tom can heap on others, some of the things his co-star has specifically chosen to say cause Chris to flush red for reasons other than embarrassment.

Each of these perceived actions manage to stay with him, and he feels guilty for some reason whenever he chats with Elsa on the phone. He loves her, and he knows it, but he still feels like he’s overcompensating. It somehow shows in his tone (or she just knows him that well) because Elsa asks him if something is bothering him to which he’ll laugh and change topics.

It doesn’t help to dissipate the tendrils of guilt working their way through him.

So the sight of such a tainted smile has Chris facing forward faster than intended. He entertains thoughts of rushing out of the room with a hurried goodbye. It’ll be an awkward exit for sure, but anything would be better than continuing to sit around.

These thoughts are disrupted as a hand claps him on the back. The contact startles him sideways, and he whips sideways to see Tom smiling at him with amusement.

“What’s got you all worked up?” asks the other man light-heartedly.

Chris tenses as Tom’s hand travels from his shoulder to up and down his arm. Though he pins Tom with an unnerving stare, the other man’s amusement simply turns into confusion. Chris figures that being direct is the best way to go at this point.

“Tom,” says Chris in as serious a voice as he can muster. “Stop it.”

An awkward beat of silence follows this command wherein the hand on Chris’ arm momentarily freezes. The confusion on Tom’s face only deepens before slim fingers curl around Chris’ bicep.

“What are you even talking about?” asks the other man. “Are you feeling all right, Chris?” Tom’s other hand finds its way to Chris’ knee as if to squeeze it in a show of support. Chris has his own suspicions about its presence though as the touch figuratively burns like a brand.

Swatting at the hand on his leg, Chris maintains his resolve while battling away the curiosity rising within him. “You know what I damn well mean, Tom.”

The fingers around his arm unlatch so that hand can close over the hand encircling Tom’s wrist. Tom’s slim fingers brush over Chris’ thick ones with Tom’s thumb rubbing a slow circle against Chris’ wrist. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you instead of speaking in half-sentences,” suggests Tom softly.

Continuing to feel cagey, Chris turns towards Tom and is nearly disarmed by the earnest expression on the other man’s face.  He feels like an idiot for blundering into this situation without proper planning, and it must show on his face as Tom gifts him with another soft smile.

“I hate seeing you in such a state,” the other man says with a touch of helplessness as his voice nearly cracks. “I just want to understand you right now.”  

And damn the man for nearly breaking through all of Chris’ shields as Chris nearly believes himself a fool to let such negative thoughts concerning Tom get to his head. His hand releases Tom’s, and an apology is about to roll of his tongue when his co-star makes yet another strange move.

Tom’s hand tries to slip into Chris’ own and hold it in what Chris can only imagine to be an intimate sense.

Chris quickly pulls away and tilts his head to the side in confusion. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Tom has the gall to look both flustered and wounded as he flounders for an explanation. Chris reflexively chides himself on being so brusque but then remembers to snap out of it. He knows he needs to get to the heart of the matter now before he loses his nerve.

“I’m not blind, Tom,” states Chris very clearly as he holds Tom’s gaze. “I’ve noticed how you’ve been acting around me, and while I’m still trying to think only the best of you, it’s the last thing I need right now.”

Tom’s eyebrows scrunch together, and his face falls in such a way that Chris feels bad for the sigh of relief he internalizes. It was all for the best though and now that he’s made himself known, they can hopefully return to normal. He cannot distance himself from Tom at this point in time, and his own restraint nears a point of breaking wherein he would definitely do something he deeply regrets.

Which is why Tom’s next action throws him off.

The other man’s hand once again finds itself on Chris’ knee with Tom leaning in as if he’s no sense of personal space. Tom’s eyes bore into his with a concerned frown pulling the corners of his mouth downward, and he gives Chris a gentle squeeze as he says, “I’m so sorry to hear you’re having problems elsewhere. You can always unload on me.”

Now it is Chris’ turn to be genuinely flustered as his mind reels from this new turn. During his moment of stunned silence, Tom presses his advantage.

“It’s all right, Chris,” urges Tom in that sympathetic voice of his which makes it seem like Chris is the most important person in the world. Tom’s gray-blue eyes never break their laser focus as his voice continues to dance into Chris’ ear. “Just let it all out. I won’t tell anyone.”

That little smile reemerges on Tom’s face again as he seems to move in nearer. “I swear,” he finishes in a dangerously low voice which teeters close to a purr.

Chris knows the game is up now. He needs to get up and leave lest a foray into wordplay guarantee his tangled defeat.

And yet, all he does is rasp, “I can’t.”

“Well of course you can,” presses Tom. “It’s quite easy actually. Just open up and see what happens.”

Chris feels rather than sees the hand slipping into his own. Slim fingers playing with his own while managing to avoid the wedding band on Chris’ ring finger.

The younger man feels completely out of his depth. A side of him he believed to be quite dormant flares inside of him and urges him to follow his primal instinct. The part of him the he knows to be his common sense screams at him to get a damn grip.

His attempt to pull away is denied him as Tom edges even closer. Any closer and he’ll be seated on Chris’ lap.

“I w-wouldn’t know how to,” reasons Chris in a shaky voice.

A simper crawls across Tom’s lips at this admission. “Then allow me to be your guide.”

Fingers finally close in on his wedding ring and playfully twist it round and round. A tremor runs through Chris at the sensation of the metal moving across his skin.

“Unburden yourself,” instructs Tom as Chris feels a slight tug on his finger before the ring slowly slides up and down his finger. “And just feel.”

Chris remains frozen as he tries to come up with some other weak protest. Soft, thin lips press against his own mouth before such a declaration can stumble off of his tongue. Instead, an actual tongue lightly swipes across his lower lip, and Chris automatically responds by pressing closer.

As both of their mouths open up for a deepening of the kiss, his common sense comes back in full force, and he bodily pushes himself away so quickly that he ends up on the other side of the plush couch. Despite the simplicity of the kiss, Chris draws harsh pants of breath in and out of his mouth. He stares wide eyed at Tom who looks back at him owlishly with slow, deliberate blinks.

“I’m married,” says Chris hurriedly as his fingers brush against his lower lip. “And I love Elsa,” he adds quickly.

“Facts that I’m completely aware of,” replies Tom with that damned smile returning to his face.

Before Chris can formulate his next questions of what and why, the door finally opens again to reveal Luke.

“Time to go, Tom,” announces the press agent primly without so much as a glance at the two actors as his eyes are determinedly focused on the smartphone in his hands.

Just like that, Tom stands up and elongates his limbs in a languid stretch. His eyes remain pressed on Chris as that smile shrinks back down into something that could pass as platonic.

“Don’t forget my advice, Chris,” reminds Tom in his thoughtful tone as if he had been dispensing valuable lessons. “And if you need any more help, you know where my room is.”

With a little wink and click of the door, Chris is all alone with his tingling lips, all-consuming guilt and a burning desire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was from a prompt on the kinkmeme.


	10. Best Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all the prestigious awards, it's time for the most important one of all! The MTV movie awards where Chris and Tom have been nominated for Best Kiss. Chris is not amused. Tom's a little amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is in the same universe as _Go for the Gold_ aka the first chapter of this fic series. And I started writing this way back when the actual MTV movie awards aired, but I'm just incredibly slow.

Tom finds out about the nomination on a dull afternoon while lounging around his house. Picking up his phone, he’d decided to check his twitter only to find it bombarded with more alerts than usual. The constant stream of excessive exclamation marks and congratulations in all caps lock are enough to raise an eyebrow, but it’s the consistent mention of Chris which gets him to click on the link leading to Mtv’s website.

And once he does, he can’t help but laugh at what greets him. He manages to take a screencap and text the image with an ensuing snarky message to Chris.

He goes back to nibbling on his snack when his phone soon vibrates in place on the coffee table. Checking it, he sees Chris’ simple message which sends him into another fit of titters.

_I blame this on your fans._

* * *

It’s while he’s at the Hemsworth’s place for Sunday brunch that Elsa chooses to broach the topic.

“So I hear congratulations are in order. Have the two of you decided how you’ll reward your attentive fans?” Her eyes sparkle alongside the wide grin gracing her face as she peers over at Tom.

Chris groans in his seat and takes to bouncing India on his lap as if to use his daughter as a shield. “Can we not?” pleads the younger man. “I thought it was some understood agreement that if we win—”

“When you win,” interrupts Elsa before taking a sip of water from her glass. Her smile still stretches beyond the rim of the glass and does not falter in the face of the pointed looks both men give her. “You’re fan base is quite vocal,” she explains with a slight nod in Tom’s direction.

Tom can only nod in agreement to this while Chris tries to return to his point.

“That IF we win,” continues Chris as he places his squirming daughter on the ground who toddles off to her mother, “we’d just take our golden tubs of popcorn, thank everyone and walk off the stage.”

“You’re such a frump,” accuses Elsa lightheartedly. India’s enthusiastic cries ‘ump’ as if in agreement. “You’ll be breaking tradition!”

“Oh, yeah,” replies Chris in a deadpan tone of voice. “The sacred 20-year tradition of Best Kiss which hasn’t even been upheld for the past few years.” He lightly places his head on top of his propped up fist to cap off his point, and an eyebrow perks up. “ _That_ tradition?”

“Those people were all frumps too,” comments Elsa dismissively as she hands India a green bean to chew on.

“Hey, I worked with one of those frumps,” says Chris defensively.

“If that’s what you want to do,” chimes in Tom before they can get off topic, “then I’m fine with that. I’m not going to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. You don’t have to worry about me trying to maul your face off while attempting to slip you the tongue.”

“Now hold on there,” says Chris as he removes his head to toy with one of his decorative rings. “It’s not you that I mind.”

“Then what is it that you mind?” asks Elsa as she peers inquisitively at her husband. India appears to mirror her mother’s expression while happily munches on her veggies.

“I don’t know if you remember, but there was a very strange media fixation surrounding the lot of us that’s finally died down.” Chris shrugs his shoulders and lounges back in his chair with this explanation. “I’d rather not rekindle those flames.”

“Like I said,” resumes Tom as he plays with the remnants of his sliced bread. “It’s all in good fun, and I won’t force you into anything.”

“But I will,” cuts in Elsa with her same headstrong smile.

Tom stews in semi-awkward silence as husband and wife partake in a semi-serious staring match. Even India stops her mashing to look back and forth between her parents. The stand-off finally ends when India makes a loud, sudden noise of jubilation and wiggles from her mother’s lap to crawl underneath the table and prod at Tom’s legs. Tom bends down to scoop the little girl off of the floor, and she screams with delight as he hoists her into the air.

Chris slumps in defeat and blows air through his mouth in a comical manner. “Fine,” he concedes. “We’ll pander to Tom’s fanbase.”

“It’s no fun when you put it like that,” replies Elsa. “You’re sucking all the possible joy that could be gotten out of this. I’m not saying you have to French each other, but a little peck would be nice as well.”

“Whatever you say, dear,” responds Chris noncommittally.

“You know I’m going to get you to loosen up about this eventually, right?” questions Elsa as she playfully narrows her eyes at her husband.

Chris simply shrugs his shoulders in response.

* * *

 The subject doesn’t come back up again until it’s too late. With the barest hint of a grin, Luke informs him that he’s been invited once again to the Mtv Movie Awards. Previous experience has taught him that an invitation to this sort of event while nominated for something essentially assures a victory, and he can’t help but wonder what’s going down over at Chris’ neck of the woods.

Having nothing else scheduled, he gives his assent for a confirmation and quickly shoots another text off to Chris.

_Watever ur reservations, u’d bttr not get cold feet._

Though he knows how on the fence Chris still is about the whole thing, he’d rather not be left all alone on the stage having to pantomime a make-out session with his absent co-star.

Before he can get too wrapped up in his worry, his phone vibrates in response, and he quickly checks the reply.

_I’ll be there :P_

Despite the teasing emoticon, Tom cannot help but sigh in relief at not being abandoned at the eleventh hour.

* * *

 “So have you guys been practicing your victory kisses since the nominations were announced?” asks the fresh-faced young woman before them. She is yet another interview for some unheard of cable outlet along the carpet, yet Tom mentally gives her credit for tackling their nomination from a different angle.

It had almost been a rehash of their initial press tour with question after question about what it was like to kiss your straight co-star who also happens to play your sibling in the multi-million dollar franchise you’re both best known for. This time around there was the token questioning of what their post-Oscar lives were like, but it essentially came back around to the kissing with questions as to what each other’s technique was like.

Given the target demographic, there were also inquisitions into their role in the continuing Marvel universe, but neither of them were at liberty to discuss it. Both of them were grateful that the speculation about the two of them had been put at the top of the “DO NOT DISCUSS” list.

Chris unsuccessfully tries to turn his snort into a cough and scratches the nape of his shortened hair out of habit. “Can’t say that we have,” he answers with a sideways smile.

“Especially since there’s no use practicing something you’ve already perfected,” adds Tom with the straightest of faces.

“Stop it,” warns Chris with a wag of his finger and a goofy grin.

“It’s like second nature for us now,” continues Tom into the microphone as if Chris had never even spoken.

The correspondent is on the verge of making some pithy comment when Chris claps one of his large hands over Tom’s mouth. “That’s enough out of you,” comments Chris as he attempts to contain his laughter.

The muffled noise from Tom contradicts this, and the reporter hones in on the dynamic.

“So we should definitely be betting on the two of you, I see,” says the young woman knowingly as if she has some deeper insight into the future. “So no worries about your brother, Liam, or the latest entry in the Marvel franchise?”

Chris screws his face up and makes a dismissive noise. “Liam’s a horrible kisser. He was practically mauling that poor girl’s face off. It’s more of a pity nom really.”

“And as for our overlord, Marvel,” says Tom as he angles his face away from Chris’ hand during the other man’s lapse in attention, “while they continue to produce wonderful talent, I don’t think anyone will ever quite beat our dynamic chemistry.” He winks at the camera for added effect which earns a little smirk from the interviewer.

She nods along before turning into her camera. “And there you have it. Thank you two very much for stopping on by and may the odds be in your favor tonight!”

The two actors say their salutations and make their way to the auditorium entrance as they see other stars being hurried along. Their progress is not as quick though as Tom notices that Chris’ usually long stride is dragging.

“Penny for your thoughts?” offers Tom casually as he playfully fiddles with the bottom of his dress vest. Having gauged the feel of the event in previous years but not wanting to go super casual with his dressing style, Tom had compromised by ditching the jacket portion of his suit. Despite how dressed down it made him feel, he still managed to feel a bit overdressed in the presence of all the younger actors decked out in t-shirts and ill-fitted pants. But once again, it was almost like Chris had read his mind as the slightly younger man had also shown up in a suit vest and dress pants. Though he seemed incapable of showing up in such wares without unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt to which Tom had mercilessly teased him about nip slips.

“Just envying my wife for opting not to endure two hours of so-called comedy,” answers Chris plainly.

“Well, you’ve always got me,” says Tom reassuringly. He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at his co-star. “You can lean on me when you’re strength fails you during a particularly unfunny joke of which there will be many.”

“I’m sure they’re not half as bad as those cheesy one-liners you like to spout off to India. I swear you must get your jokes off of Popsicle sticks and the back of candy wrappers.”

Tom elbows Chris in mock outrage. “How dare you,” he drawls in his most posh tone as he holds his head high.

He imagines that he hears a short titter which then leads into a question. “Do you really think we’re winning this silly thing?”

Tom’s face neutralizes save for one slightly raised eyebrow. “The other nominations are," he begins ticking items off on his spindly fingers, "the newest bland Nicholas Sparks adaptation, our newest co-workers in the Marvel universe, and your brother with his latest franchise that all the tweens are into. All mainstream draws. Compared to them, we are the little-indie-that-could who managed to garner every sort of award cred through some blessed miracle.” He cranes his neck from side to side for a bit of a stretch. “Chances are that our little Oscars will get to munch on golden popcorn tonight.”

Seeing Chris’ lingering trepidation, Tom reaches out a hand to rub at that broad shoulder. “But as I said before, I’m not going to force anything. We could definitely just play it by ear and if that involves standing awkwardly on stage in the face of thousands of catcalls before slinking off then so be it.”

Chris turns to Tom and rewards him with a grateful smile. Tom feels that wide hand patting him on the back as they finally make it down the aisle to their seats. Other entertainers are calling out quick hellos to them, and Tom feels the mounting urge to converse with everyone he recognizes but wants to wrap up this little talk first.

“Thanks, mate,” replies Chris. “But you never know, depending on how dull everything is, I may just slip back into character and go crazy on you.”

Tom gives him one of his devious little smirks. “And I’d meet you halfway.”

* * *

 “And Best Kiss goes to…” there is a pause as the young woman on the stage fiddles with the envelope in hand. The flap proves to be sticky and difficult, and Tom finds himself being more anxious than he had been on Oscar night for some reason. Beside him, Chris’ leg shakes in unconscious anticipation.

The young woman finally gets the slip of paper free, and she and her partner recite the names in perfect unison, “Tom Hiddleston and Chris Hemsworth…” The name of the movie is drowned out by screaming and a roar of applause the second Tom’s name exits their mouths.

Luke’s hand claps him on the shoulder, and he’s wearing an amusing smile as if in eager anticipation of what’s to come next.

Tom stands ceremoniously, ready to make his way to the nearby aisle when a warm hand latches on to his own. He looks back to see Chris a bit frozen in place in his seat. Due to the overwhelming din, he can’t give his co-star any more reassuring words but conveys everything in a reassuring squeeze of the hand and fixed smile. With a little tug, Chris is following behind him, and they soon have their little trophies in hand while standing before the large audience.

Feeling Chris’ continued trepidation, Tom launches ahead with an acceptance speech as he raises the golden tub of popcorn over his head.

“First he was my brother, and now he’s my lover,” declares Tom playfully into the microphone. At the uptick in screaming, he wags his finger at the camera ahead. “But first and foremost, he will always be my friend.” Looking over at Chris, he graces him with the widest grin full of every ounce of sincerity and earnestness. The hand not fingering the little tub of golden popcorn eases into Chris’ and squeezes it in good nature.

The tension seems to leak out of the other man, and a soft, little smile soon lights up his face as well in response.  He leans forward into the skinny microphone to add his own acceptance speech.

“Thanks to all the fans. It’s a great pleasure getting to work so closely alongside one of your best friends on so many projects, and I’m glad all of you have enjoyed it as well.” The man besides him turns his head slightly to study Tom and shrugs his shoulders almost imperceptibly before continuing with, “And now before Tom kills us all with what is sure to be a most riveting speech…” His large hands are darting forward to grasp Tom’s face and soon enough familiar, warm lips are covering his own.

Tom’s hands are automatically pulling at the openings of Chris’ vest to tug him closer, new trophies already forgotten. In a way it’s almost like revisiting their most recent roles except not really. There’s no negative emotions tinting this moment.  Rather, it’s just another way of greeting each other. It’s almost comforting really.

The ensuing screaming from the surrounding crowd sort of fades away as it just becomes him and Chris moving in synch with one another. He hopes no one thinks this is a joke or being played for shits and giggles because he certainly doesn't think there's anything funny about it.

He's almost about to dip Chris when the other man pulls away. He's got a dazed but mostely satisfied look on his face, and Tom leans towards the microphone without taking his eyes off the other. "Don't worry. His wife gave us her blessing. Thanks, Elsa!"

Chris' eyes crinkle affectionately which throws Tom off when a strong arm wrangles around his neck and pulls him down for a soft noogie. "Thanks again!" announces Chris as he actually has the gall to try and walk off the stage with Tom still in his grip. The younger actor lets go a few steps in, and Tom playfully shoves at him before they're fully backstage.

"You absolute child!" accuses Tom with mirth in his voice. He wouldn't have it any other way.


	11. Don't Let the Mann Get You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Chris have a quick chat right before promotion of the Dark World truly gets underway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of Blackhat coming out, I dug up this piece that I'd started a year ago after that very special SDCC appearance. Hemsworth missed both SDCC and D23 because of filming obligations involving Blackhat.

“I hope this movie is a hit based off of all the events you’ve missed,” chides Tom over the phone. The deep chuckle that answers from thousands of miles away tells him that he’s in for a ribbing.

“That’s not what you were saying a few months ago when you practically begged me to ask Michael to sign your copy of _Heat_ ,” states Chris matter-of-factly. “And I’ve only missed two things, one of which I was willfully lied to about.”

“I like to think of it as misdirection, and you can blame Kevin for that as you no doubt know that I would have loved to have you smash your way into the hall and attempt to strike me down,” replies Tom enthusiastically. He’s pacing about his hotel room now as he envisions what could have been. Maybe something like a zipline or a inconspicuously placed collapsible wall in the corner could’ve been set up.

Chris’ snort over the line interrupts his train of thought. “Yeah, sure. It seemed to go pretty smooth without me since we both know who really drives the fans crazy.”

“Yes, but it’s a bit more obvious whose name is biggest on the marquee,” counters Tom as he takes a quicker turn about his room.

“Ah, come on,” goads Chris from thousands of miles away, “give yourself some credit as the undoubted scene stealer.”

“There is no Loki without Thor and vice versa. Your presence would’ve whipped the crowd up even more,” declares Tom adamantly.

“Yeah, but it seems like most people don’t mind taking the brothers separately,” responds Chris in a tone of voice that suggests he was trying to aim for something more lighthearted.

Tom pauses rather than respond to that right away. When they’d started this journey together, it had been on the same foot with both of them being unknowns. The questions fielded to them back then where all about what it was like to have this opportunity and how they sought to bring these characters to life. Two hit movies later, and the questions had changed. Most asked about how much his life has changed (so much) and if he could have imagined all of this back when he snagged the role (not in a million years). But there’s an undercurrent to some of the questions seeking to pit him and Chris against each other, and he doesn’t appreciate that. Journalists thinking they’re clever when asking what it’s like to have stolen Thor’s thunder (painful pun intended) and the like. He knows it’ll just get more blatant when Chris finally joins the press tour, but he doesn’t want his co-star thinking for a second that he’s buying into this angle.

“You know what I mean. I missed you on that stage,” says Tom quietly after awhile.

Another awkward pause ensues, and Tom begins to hear faint buzzing in the background. For a second, he fears their conversation will come to a sudden end when instead Chris finally responds.

“I know,” Chris says, and the underlying tone of appreciativeness and understanding in those two words fill Tom up again.

Anything else he wanted to say slips from his mind, and he can only think about how badly he wants Chris to be in this very room with him not only to relieve the burden of marketing from his shoulders but to just act as a solid, calming presence. It was great to have Tony and Natalie at this event, but it really wasn’t quite the same. There is so much he wants to say to Chris, but he prefers to communicate it face to face.

Chris also seems to sense that the conversation has run its course as he transitions. “I’ll definitely see you next month for the premiere though, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” answers Tom warmly with a smile he hopes the other man can somehow hear. “After all, I have to grade you on your posh English schoolboy accent and take the piss if you epically muck it up.”

Another dismissive snort comes out of the phone. “The best rubbed off on me. I like to think it’s pretty spot on.”

“Hmmm, we’ll see about that. And don’t forget to get my movie signed!”

Chris just laughs in return before reassuring him that it’ll get done. They exchange goodbyes, and Tom sighs wistfully as he ends the call.


End file.
